


heart of glass

by guiltylights



Series: like the seas, you live on (in me) [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Love Confessions, M/M, Other, Post-Canon, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love?, like i said it's Complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 00:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20106100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guiltylights/pseuds/guiltylights
Summary: So Zoro opens his mouth, and says, ‘Cook, I’m in love with you.’Sanji’s steps screech themselves to a halt, before slowly, slowly, turning Sanji around. Zoro leans forward and laces his fingers together atop of the dining table, and his hands decidedly do not shake.‘I have been for a long while now, actually.’ Zoro thinks for a moment. ‘Years, I think.’When Zoro finally confesses, it’s a quiet affair.





	heart of glass

**Author's Note:**

> [Time started: 2nd August 19, 6:17pm;– ] 
> 
> I really thought I was done with this particular AU (well it’s just a version of post-canon, so maybe UA (Universe Alteration) instead?) with the last fic, which was an absolute 30k of a monster fic. But it seems that I’m more attached to this universe than I thought, and this scene has been bouncing around my head for a week or so. So have at it, because I don’t think it’s going to go away otherwise. 
> 
> A FAIR WARNING, THOUGH: this fic DOES spoil the events of the previous fic. So unless you’re fine with that, I do recommend you read the previous instalment to understand and internalise context first before reading this. This fic is probably still understandable even without reading the previous fic, but you just might find it odd without explanation. (And you know, just read the previous fic? I worked really hard on it and I’m quite proud of it.)

. 

.

.

.

.

When Zoro finally confesses, it’s a quiet affair.

It’s morning, and Zoro is watching as Sanji bustles around the kitchen sweeping up their breakfast plates and bringing them over to the kitchen sink to wash up. He’s moving with a kind of nervous energy, his feet carrying him back and across the kitchen floor in a flurry of restless footsteps as if he can’t bear to stay too still in one place for too long. He’s always been constantly in a hurry, the cook, even back when they had been sailing together on the Sunny; but being frantic on the ship had made sense back then because the cook had had to feed ten of them in total, not even including how Luffy’s stomach capacity easily swells that number up to twice over. But it doesn’t make sense for him to be frantic now, not now when there is nobody else but the two of them in this house on the Sabaody Archipelago and not now when the days ran slow and sedate as the sunlight swelling warm and golden as fat between them through the open kitchen window. But Zoro watches as Sanji crosses the floor without looking him in the eye, as though he’s trying to run from something as relentless as a shadow, and knows that they can’t keep going on like this.

So Zoro opens his mouth, and says, ‘Cook, I’m in love with you.’

Sanji’s steps screech themselves to a halt, before slowly, slowly, turning Sanji around. Zoro leans forward and laces his fingers together atop of the dining table, and his hands decidedly do not shake.

‘I have been for a long while now, actually.’ Zoro thinks for a moment. ‘Years, I think.’

For a moment it seems as though Sanji would remain frozen there forever. He looks like a trick of vision, standing there against the high morning sunlight in all dress-suit black with the sleeves of his blazer and shirt rolled up to his elbows—Zoro has yet to talk him out of his habit of wearing those things, even though right now it is the height of summer and hot as hell—and for a moment Zoro wonders if his declaration has rendered the cook immobile forever. But then abruptly, Sanji’s shoulders slump, and he exhales. The sound breaks from between his lips like shattered glass, like shattered facades, like the giving up of pretences, and from the look Sanji slants his way Zoro knows that Sanji isn’t going to pretend to not know what Zoro is talking about. And for that Zoro is grateful. But the cook has always been honourable like that.

‘So, we’re really going to have this conversation now?’ Sanji asks.

‘Yep.’ Zoro jerks his chin at the chair opposite him. ‘Might as well, since you haven’t stopped skittering around me like a nervous animal for almost eight weeks now.’

Sanji scowls, but moves to sit down anyway, shoving back the chair and collapsing into it in an unnecessarily belligerent fashion. Zoro is unimpressed by the showy display. ‘I have not been _skittering._’

‘Uh-huh.’ Zoro snorts. ‘So mind telling me why you’re unable to look me in the eye right now?’

That shuts Sanji up. He glares.

‘That’s the spirit,’ Zoro approves, leaning back and taking a swig from his mug for the last bit of his morning coffee.

‘So.’

‘So.’ The cook echoes. He’s fiddling his fingers.

‘…This doesn’t have to become weird or anything.’ Zoro eyes the cook’s hands, wanting to reach across the table to hold them to stop them from picking themselves apart like that. ‘It’s not—it’s not a big deal, or anything.’

That hadn’t been the right thing to say.

_‘Not a big deal?’ _Sanji asks incredulously. ‘You literally just admitted to having been in love with me for _years _and you call that _not a big deal? You—’_ Sanji breaks off, looking to the side and clenching his teeth. His swallowed words hang as loud as if he had actually said them out loud.

The air feels uncertain between them, and this is what Zoro hates the most. All the hesitancy, the nerves, the avoidance of glances and skirting around of subjects that makes the easy atmosphere that they had both worked so hard to cultivate splinter like the most fragile of glass. On any other topic the cook would have had zero issue tearing into Zoro relentlessly in the way he best knows how, and that is precisely what Zoro likes about them; they’ve never had to pull their punches with each other. Because the hits that they do trade never mean anything seriously hurtful in the long run, and also because they both know that if they do, somehow, they could always smooth it out, whether with awkward conversation or with wordless favours of extra chores done or extra alcohol picked up. But this, this one issue is the one that Zoro has always known Sanji would get weird about, because it’s _love _and the cook has always had a weird sort of thing when it came to things like that, romantic idiot he is with the bleeding heart; but also not just because that. Also because it’s love and it’s Zoro and and it’s _love _and _Zoro _and above all else, Sanji is _kind. _Because despite all their fights and endless squabbling Zoro has never doubted that Sanji cherished him as _nakama _fiercely and unwaveringly as he did the others, and that meant that Sanji has never wanted to break his heart.

So when Sanji can only say, quietly, ‘I’m sorry,’ in the spaces of the splintered silence that follow, Zoro can’t blame him for anything at all.

It hurts, as expected. Of course it does, he’s only been in love with the bastard for what has been more than half his life now, considering the fact that he’s currently in his mid-forties and he and Sanji had met when they had been under twenty. But Zoro has been expecting this. He knows the cook loves women, knows the cook could never have loved him the way Zoro loves him, and that’s fine. Zoro has known what he was getting into, those years ago when he had accepted that the feelings that swelled in him whenever the cook slanted a smirk in his direction wasn’t just irritation. So that’s fine. He hadn’t expected for this to go anywhere. That’s never been what he was after. He loves Sanji for the sake of loving him, because despite his foul mouth and snarky attitude and propensity to needle under his skin and get on his nerves (Usopp once timed it—Sanji’s record for getting Zoro to raise his voice had been an incredible twelve seconds) the cook was also kind, almost undeservingly compassionate even to those who didn’t deserve it, smart and level-headed and fiercely loyal to the people he loves and cares about. Whenever Zoro closes his eyes he can still see the cook, standing bloodied in a tattered suit in the middle of a field of defeated Marine bodies as casually as though it was just another Sunday afternoon, smoking trailing thinly from the cigarette between his lips and blood dripping wet from his jaw. That Sanji, standing pale and wind-ruffled but unflinchingly resolute in the face of adversity, is the one that Zoro fell in love with. And that Sanji is a Sanji that loves women. So Zoro hadn’t expected anything else. But it still hurts.

Zoro pushes down the feelings to be examined later, when he’s out training and meditating and has the luxury of time for self-reflection. ‘It’s fine, cook. I knew it would turn out like this.’

‘…I’m sorry I didn’t notice it sooner.’

Zoro frowns. ‘What are you talking about? You knew already, didn’t you.’

Zoro’s suspected that that’s what has been eating at the cook for the past few weeks, that that was the cause behind the awkwardness behind the cook’s behaviours, and now, with the way the cook’s spine stiffens and how the cook can only stare into the wooden grain of their dining table and not at him, Zoro knows that he’s right.

‘How long have you known?’ Zoro asks.

Sanji doesn’t answer, instead reaching into inside his suit pocket for a packet of cigarettes. Tapping one out, his lighter flicks out from what seems from nowhere and lights the end of it.

Zoro eyes the cigarette. ‘You’ve been smoking a lot more than usual.’

Sanji rolls his eyes. ‘Well, not as if that matters, does it. What’s it gonna do, kill me?’

The cook’s hands as he keeps the lighter away are pale and untouched by the ravages of time. In contrast, Zoro looks down at his own hands, at where they’ve already begun to amass minute wrinkles like creases in gathered cloth, and knows that his face probably shows the same signs of time and age slowly passing by. But the cook will never look like that. The cavalier attitude Sanji holds towards his own immortality is a whole other set of issues that Zoro knows they will have to unpack, at some other point, but now isn’t the time or place to get side-tracked by something else like that; Zoro knows that he and Sanji has to get through this, first, get through this conversation without either of them misunderstanding or mistaking each other’s intentions, before they can even begin to tackle other problems. So Zoro only waits as Sanji takes a long fortifying drag of the cigarette, the cook taking and gathering his strength from the nicotine that swirls through his lungs.

‘For a while now,’ Sanji admits, finally. He’s not one to hold back on the truth when the conversation’s come this far. ‘But I wasn’t sure about it until you actually showed up to the house a few years ago.’

Zoro blinks, caught slightly off-guard at that answer. What?

‘So you knew? Even from when we were sailing on the Sunny?’

‘Yeah. Well.’

‘Why didn’t you say anything then?’

‘I didn’t want to presume anything,’ Sanji says, tapping the lit end of his cigarette into the ashtray on the table. ‘Plus, we kind of had bigger things to worry about back then, having to survive deadly attacks from Marines and other big-name pirates and what not. There really wasn’t much space for sitting down and sorting through this in between the other more emotionally draining parts of our lives.’

Well, Zoro can’t really argue with that. But then—

‘If you’ve known since I came here, why didn’t you ask about it in the last few years?’

Sanji fidgets with his cigarette.

‘Cook.’

‘Because I didn’t think you’d stay for good.’ Sanji admits quietly.

_Oh. _

Zoro forgoes all propriety and reaches across the table to hold the cook’s hands. Sanji starts, and pulls as though meaning to slip out of his grasp; but Zoro tightens his hold, and Sanji stops moving.

‘I’m going to stay here for as long as my life will let me, cook,’ he says, and knows that he means every word of it. ‘I said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m moving in, and staying here with you. I didn’t say that as a temporary thing. It’s for as long as I can make it, and for as long as you will allow.’

Sanji stares at Zoro’s hands, over his own. ‘Is this because you love me?’ He asks, and his tone is bitter.

Zoro frowns. ‘Why does that matter?’ He asks.

‘It _matters _because I don’t want to get your hopes up!’ Sanji snaps. ‘If you’re staying because you love me, and you’re hoping for something, I can’t let you—I can’t love you back. I can’t love you back the way you want to be loved and if that’s the case having you stay here would be _cruel _of me, because I’ll just be leading you on, or something! And I’m not going to fucking do that to you.’ Sanji wrenches his hands away from Zoro’s to fold his arms defensively over his chest. Zoro lets him.

‘…I can’t love you back,’ Sanji repeats, then, a little quieter, ‘so it isn’t fair for you to have to stay.’

Sliding back on his seat, thoughts whirl through Zoro’s mind, the pieces slotting themselves into place. The cook’s behaviour suddenly takes on a whole different shade of meaning—the avoidance of confrontation, the ducking away from glances, the pulling away from physical contact not from out of disgust like Zoro had feared, but from guilt. The needlessly self-sacrificing cook, Sanji, who doesn’t think he deserves any kind of love unless he’s able to give something of equal value in return, when the truth is that Zoro has never needed that from him. Sure, it would’ve been nice, fucking phenomenal even, but it has never been a requirement. Looking at the cook sitting opposite across from him, with self-contempt and remorse swimming in his eyes, Zoro gets the overwhelming feeling that whatever he says next, now, is the most crucial conversation that could happen in their lives, and Zoro had better say it fast and say it right before Sanji got the wrong idea.

He licks his lips. ‘Listen, cook.’

Sanji looks up.

‘I never needed for you to love me back,’ Zoro says, carefully, and holds up a hand when Sanji opens his mouth as though to argue. ‘I never needed that, because I’ve always known that you would never feel the same way. You like women. I know that.’ Zoro rolls his eyes. ‘It would be hard to _not _know that, with how you used to go gaga over Nami and Robin.’

Sanji narrows his eyes at that, but keeps quiet.

‘I love you, cook. I’m not going to pretend I don’t. And I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t come here without _any _motives in mind. But I didn’t choose to come and stay here because I wanted something from you.’ Zoro says. ‘But that isn’t the main reason why I decided to come here. It wasn’t out of that love, and before you ask, it wasn’t out of pity, either.’

There’s sunlight moving across the walls from where the sun is moving into high noon. It bounces off the light-coloured kitchen walls to slick the cook’s hair to something soft and golden, and Zoro stares at the edges of it for a moment, how it’s backlit into something that doesn’t seem quite there, before returning his gaze to Sanji’s.

‘I’m staying here because above everything, we’re friends and crewmates first, and anything else second. So don’t worry about me. I’m here because _I _want to be.’

Sanji looks as though he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He crushes the cigarette, long since burned out to the end from his nervous smoking, into the empty ashtray on the top of the dining table.

‘…Do you even know what you’re saying?’ He asks. ‘Don’t make any promises you can’t keep.’

Zoro raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m not making any promises,’ he says. ‘This isn’t any kind of grand declaration or whatever; I’m not staying here out of obligation or some sense of code. Again, I’m here because I want to be. That’s all there is to it.’

Sanji’s silent. But Zoro’s said what he’s wanted to say, and now that everything’s been settled it’s just an issue of them individually processing and sorting through what has been discussed here. A sharp and clean-cut feeling is arcing through his chest, and Zoro has a good feeling that he knows why. He stands up. He’s going to go out to the backyard to work out, to think about what’s happened here and to reflect, and to maybe work his way through his not-quite heartbreak.

‘Wait.’

Zoro stops, and turns around. Sanji is looking at him, from where he is at the dining table; body half-turned away, hand half-uncurled as though he had been reaching out and then aborted the movement. As Zoro watches, Sanji’s hand flexes and unflexes, before retreating.

Sanji licks his lips, and says, ‘never mind. Nothing.’

Zoro narrows his eyes. There’s a whole other world behind the response there, one that’s going to take a whole other occasion to dissect and understand. But Zoro notes the way Sanji is turning his face away, blond hair falling to cover his face and expression as he gets up from the dining table in one movement fluid as a shadow, and knows now that if he tries to pry any further he’s going to get nowhere. So he lets it go.

‘Fine. I’m going out back to work out.’

Sanji’s busied himself with the dishes at the sink. ‘Fine. I’m going out later.’

‘I know. Call me when lunch is ready.’

‘Yeah, sure.’

Zoro turns around, and heads outside. At the kitchen sink, Sanji’s hands, which had been washing a cup and putting it away, stills. The glass clinks from where he sets it aside next to a bowl. Sanji stares outside the window to where Zoro had picked up a barbell and begun his reps, before forcibly looking away.

.

.

.

.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Unrequited love? Requited love? Both and not both at the same time; it’s complicated. 
> 
> For those of you who came here from my previous fic and think that this doesn’t seem to fall in line with how they act in that, I would say it’s because this is the early days of their strange not-relationship, when they haven’t really talked through everything and the ease of time has yet to settle their interactions into comfort and routine. It took them a fuck lot of time to reach the point that they do in the previous fic—and considering that it’s an unusual arrangement, it really shouldn’t be too surprising. It’s not easy to navigate unfamiliar waters after all. I would consider writing the entire progression of how their relationship evolves, but that would probably take up another 20k and I’m still emotionally drained from writing the 30k instalment. I’ll leave it up to you guys to imagine how it might’ve gone. (Tell me about it in the comments! Or at my [tumblr](http://guilty-lights.tumblr.com/)! I love hearing from people their opinions on these things.) 
> 
> Thanks for reading for this fic! Leave a comment or kudos if you liked it, they make my day :) If you want to see more of these two in this universe (and maybe get an explanation if their dynamics in this fic intrigued/confused you), check out the previous instalment I wrote on this! It’s 30k, and the longest damn fic I’ve written in my life, so you’d definitely have a good read for a significant length of time. 
> 
> [Time ended: 4th Aug 19, 5:08pm;— ]


End file.
